Defense
by corneroffandom
Summary: Alberto Del Rio makes a decision.


A change had come over Alberto Del Rio after losing to both Ryback and Kofi Kingston in the span of a week. The normally intense man had spent the rest of the night looking glum, thoughtful. Ricardo Rodriguez had noticed right away, but with no clue what to do or say to help, he'd gone about his duties, trying to at least make _that_ part of life easier on his employer. After a few hours of peace, they're sitting in the hotel room assigned to them for the evening, the TV softly droning on a few feet away as Del Rio stares blankly ahead and Ricardo irons his scarf carefully. "I do not know what to do anymore, Ricardo," Alberto finally speaks up, startling the younger man.

Ricardo freezes and, realizing what he's doing, puts the iron down carefully after a few tense moments. "El Patron?" His voice scares him, sounding emotionless and almost... hopeless. "About what?" He watches the older man stare at his hands, brow furrowing as he waits. He wishes it's something he could help the other man with but highly doubts it, to his utter shame. In their two+ years together, he'd been very little help where it'd mattered most to the Mexican aristocrat- during matches, or any other physical altercation he'd had. He had tried, yeah, but it had never really been _enough._

"Everything." His voice is so dull, quiet, that it scares his ring announcer even further. "I try and I try, but I keep losing. Those perros, Ryback and Kofi Kingston... Sheamus, Orton... on and on and on. I am supposed to be able to hold my own against the upper echelon of talent here, but I can barely beat Zack Ryder within an acceptable time frame anymore."

Ricardo stares at him, his lips twisted in sadness for his employer. "Lo siento, El Patron. I wish I could do more..."

"That is not your role," Del Rio tells him dismissively. "I am the failure here, not you."

Dark eyes widening in disbelief, the ring announcer gapes at him. "Wha- what?"

His smile is mirthless, almost disgusted. "It is surprising, hm, that I can finally admit that?" He presses a finger to his lips, staring thoughtfully at nothing. "I have placed the blame on you for far too long. You have tried again and again and again to assist me, just to be injured or rebuffed at every turn. The way I have treated you at times, it is amazing you haven't just left me to suffer..."

"I could never do that," he breathes out, eyes gleaming with discomfort and horror. "How could I do that? You're- you're my best friend." He'd said it quite a few times in the past, meaning it sincerely each time.

Alberto smiles faintly, his eyes lowering. "I do not deserve your loyalty. But I will try to, from here on out."

Watching him when he looks so wretched hurts Ricardo, makes him feel almost ill with nervousness, so he gazes down at his hands. "El Patron, what are you planning?"

For the first time in his whole WWE career, Alberto looks stumped. "I honestly have no idea." For a man whose goals had always been set on becoming World champion, WWE champion, or even the smaller victory of claiming the title of Apex Predator from Randy Orton, this is a horrifying admission.

Even worse is that fact that he has no match set for TLC. Ricardo watches on sadly as he picks at his wrestling gear, lips pursed thoughtfully. Not another word is spoken the rest of the evening.

That Sunday, Ricardo is wandering the hall, needing a bit of a breather away from his employer's lingering depression, when he hears some sort of commotion out by the ring. Curious and desperate for a distraction, he peers out of the curtain separating the backstage from the ringside area and frowns, recognizing Heath Slater's voice as he openly mocks the Spanish announcers alongside Jinder Mahal and Drew McIntyre. Without really thinking about what he's going to do, the next thing he knows he's running down to the ring to interrupt this, getting between 3MB and the two announcers.

It all goes sideways quickly when the three men turn their focus onto threatening him, taunting him. Preparing to beat him up. His fear is growing to near manic levels when there's a black blur and- Alberto! His heart soars and then sinks just as fast when he realizes that his employer has now put himself in the line of fire of these three hyenas, Miz seemingly content to stand by and watch. It's only when Alberto is down, all three of them brutalizing him, that Mike makes his move and helps, the two men ridding the ring of all three of them. It leads into the challenge laid for a six man tag match later on but Alberto pays only a little attention to this as Ricardo hesitantly joins them, looking and feeling extremely woe-begotten.

"Ricardo?" he asks, turning to look at his still, quiet ring announcer. "Are you well?"

"Si, El Patron," he murmurs. "I just, I don't understand-"

"Understand what, Ricardo?"

"Why you helped me just now." The words slip out before he can filter them and when he sees just how hurt Alberto looks after they pass from his lips, he feels horrible. "I, I mean-"

"No, do not censor yourself. I understand." Alberto sighs. "I have been a horrible employer to you, and an even worse friend." He watches Ricardo closely and shakes his head. "How you have put up with me the past few years, I do not know. At the least, I paid you well?" His falsified mirth quickly dies away as Ricardo leans forward, trying to figure out what to say to take that look out of his eyes, but Alberto raises a hand to dissuade him. "I need to say this, Ricardo. I helped you tonight because it is part of that change I've decided I need to make."

"Que?" he whispers, eyes wide. "You've decided...?"

"As you know, I've not been as successful as I'd like. I want to be different, I want to be better." He takes a breath and shakes his head. "Especially to you. You deserve better than what I've offered."

Ricardo is floored. He had expected a great many things to come from Alberto's refusal to let his career stagnant any further, but _this?_ "I, I haven't minded-"

"You should've," Alberto says vaguely. "You should've felt comfortable enough to say that things needed to change. I claim over and over again that you are my only friend, my _best_ friend, and how do I prove it? Standing idly by while you get hurt, doing nothing to assist you. No more, Ricardo. People will learn if they harm you in any way, they will pay. In the end, they will all pay." He smiles faintly as Ricardo swallows, uncertain. "I probably do not have the right to ask this of you, but will you give me one more chance? To be a better employer? To treat you more fairly?"

They stare at each other, everything else inconsequential- the crowd, Miz lurking nearby, the match with 3MB later, all of it. Ricardo knows that this is the turning point Alberto had been looking for for a long, long time and his answer could kill it or reinforce it. "Of- of course, El Patron. You don't need to ask," he breathes out. "Whatever you need."

Alberto's eyes soften as he wraps an arm around his ring announcer's shoulders, pulling him closer. "Gracias, Ricardo. Mucho gracias." As they turn to face the still angered 3MB, Ricardo has to smile, which only grows when he realizes that the Mexican aristocrat also is smiling. He had been alright with things before but maybe... maybe this change will be a good thing as well, for them both.


End file.
